


firecracker wishes

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, Gerard Way and the Hormones, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen, Reading and Leeds Festivals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuck.  He closes his eyes, because this is the worst idea ever.  He was stupid to think he could do this on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	firecracker wishes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [argentumlupine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumlupine/gifts).



> This is for my beloved argentumlupine, who has been having a really tough time lately. I don't have a lot of talents or skills, but I desperately wanted to do something for her to make her feel a little better, so. Gway FEEEEELS. Those I can totally do.
> 
> Title from Gerard Way's _Action Cat_ , lovely and helpful beta by dear_monday.
> 
> This was prompted by the [behind-the-scenes video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Np5q4ZzDxCI) of the performance at Reading.

Gerard's gonna throw up.

This is so fucking huge and his stomach is one big churning mess. He thinks about the coffee he drank, and the food he'd ignored back at the hotel. The nausea has him lurching into the bathroom, hunching over the toilet and swallowing hard.

Fuck. He closes his eyes, because this is the worst idea ever. He was stupid to think he could do this on his own.

He flushes the toilet and washes his hands. Back in the dressing room, he picks up his phone and looks at the pictures that Linds sent him last night. Of her, and Lady B, both of them smiling so wide, and he misses them both so fucking much it's like an ache in his chest.

The last picture is one of just Bandit, and she's holding up a drawing, with some squiggles and a colorful creature of some sort. He can make out some letters; she's clearly gotten the hang of B's and T's, A's and I's, because those are in her name. He squints at the mysterious creature and tilts his phone. He's almost certain it's a waving jellyfish. With vampire teeth. And a hat. He smiles. 

Gerard looks at himself in the mirror and fiddles with his hair, which only makes things worse. "Fuck," he mutters to himself, and uses his fingers to try to make it look less stupid. He gives up after a few minutes and just shakes his head vigorously. 

He hates waiting. He bounces on his feet a few times, puts on his sunglasses, takes them off, puts them back on. His hands are tingling and he's pretty sure he's going to forget the words to at least one of the songs. He thinks about drinking some water, but he knows that he'll end up needed to piss in the middle of his set and—no, not doing that.

His phone chirps and he snatches it up, happy for the distraction. 

_break a leg proud of you_

He smiles, and he knows it's a bit wobbly, but he doesn't care. Ray knows how nervous Gerard is about this, they talked about it a couple of weeks ago, and Ray is the best friend ever. 

He misses his band.

Gerard paces, because he doesn't know what else to do with himself. He reaches up to rub at his eyes and stops himself at the very last moment, remembering that he's wearing makeup. "Fuck." He buttons his suit jacket, then unbuttons it a moment later.

His phone chirps again and this time it's from Mikey.

_you got this_

"I'm not so sure about that."

Mikey's a mind reader. The next message says, _you do_.

It makes him grin. 

He paces some more, and sticks his hand into his pocket, fingers brushing the note that Linds snuck into his suitcase while he'd been distracted. Words aren't her thing, so she'd doodled a mini-Gerard on stage, arms raised high in front of a cheering audience. _Love you, boo,_ she'd written in lieu of a signature.

Every day, Gerard is certain that he can't love Linds more than he already does. And every day, he's proven wrong. 

"Ten minutes," someone says.

"Oh God." He can't do this, he just can't. "Motherfucker," he whispers. He imagines all the things that could go wrong: tripping over cords and falling on his face, the sound system fucking up, the crowd _hating_ him, and he breaks out in a cold sweat.

His phone rings and he jumps. "Hey."

"Stop panicking." 

Gerard closes his eyes and lets himself sink into a chair. "All right." The tightness in his chest loosens little at the sound of Frank's voice.

"No, seriously, you're gonna be great."

He bites his lip, because he doesn't want the words in his throat to spill out. But it's _Frank_. "What if I made a mistake? What if I was wrong?"

"Gee." Gerard is not sure how Frank can sound both annoyed and so damn fond at the same time. "Stop being an idiot."

"Okay." He's shaking like a junkie jonesing for his next hit. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Hold on." There's a crackle, and he can hear Frank in the background saying, "Okay kids, just like we practiced—"

"Knock 'em dead, Uncle Gee!" 

Gerard can hear Frank and the twins, the baby and Jamia, and even a couple of the dogs, all giggles and barks and high-pitched voices, and his eyes sting a little. "I hate you," he sniffles.

"I know," Frank says, laughing. "Go do your rock star thing." 

"Fuck you," he says, and hangs up the phone.

He's still nervous as he walks across the grass to the backstage area. It's cluttered with equipment but he finds a clear spot by the door. He wants a cigarette. He wants a drink. Instead, he shakes his hands out, paces around in circles, takes small sips from a bottle of water. The crowd is loud and the anticipation zings through his blood. He can do this. He _can_.

His band comes over and they hug each other, and suddenly everything comes into sharp focus. James grins at him and presses a wet, smacking kiss to his temple while everyone laughs. This is it.

The band takes the stage and the crowd's cheering. The intro to _Bureau_ starts, Matt and a long, wobbling tone, then Jarrod laying down the beat, and finally James and Ian. The kids get into it, screaming and clapping and Gerard's heart starts pounding. 

"Oh God, oh God, oh God." He takes a deep, hard breath, and there's his fucking cue, and it's too late to turn back now. The first step is the hardest, but he makes himself take it, and once he starts moving forward, he can't seem to stop.

The crowd roars, the volume growing impossibly louder, and there's a sea of faces, ecstatic, grinning, crying. Something inside of him _clicks_ into place; yeah, this is what he was fucking born to do. 

-fin-


End file.
